


Minefield

by feverpitchfiasco



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverpitchfiasco/pseuds/feverpitchfiasco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finally opens up about why he didn't search for Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minefield

**Author's Note:**

> I really suck at naming fics. Also, there's a brief mention of attempted suicide. So if that's a trigger, you might wanna read something else.

They aren’t even fighting when the truth comes out. Relaxing in the hotel room after a simple salt ‘n burn. Each in their own bed, watching some cheesy made-for-tv movie, when Sam clicks it off. 

“Do you really want to know why I didn’t look for you, Dean?” Sam’s eyes are shining in the half-darkness, his voice heavy with emotion. Apprehension settles in Dean’s gut, cold and coiled like a snake. That’s all he’s wanted to know since the day he got out. But the way his brother is presenting it makes him think twice. He’s wary of opening Pandora’s box, and the silence grows thick between them as he contemplates his answer. When he finally responds, it’s in a gentle and cautious voice. 

“You know I do.” 

They’ve been dropped in the middle of a minefield now. A misstep from either of them and it’ll be the end. Sam tilts his head back and stares at the water stain on the ceiling. 

“Well... You know I hit that dog, right? It was so dark, and raining so hard. I just couldn’t see him.” 

“You didn’t mention the weather, but yeah. It’s not your fault, man. Animals are stupid. Dart in front of cars and then wonder why they wake up dead.” This elicits a small puff of vaguely amused air from Sam.

“You can’t ‘wake up’ dead, but yeah. I know. I just couldn’t see him until it was too late. But that’s not what I’m trying to say here. I was on my way to... there’s this one bridge leading out of town. They’d been doing construction on it all week, and the side rails were ripped off. The bridge was closed, but there were only a couple signs in the way. Nothing I couldn’t get passed, anyway. It goes over this really deep canyon. Lots of rocks and rapids below. I was going to drive off the road, Dean. I was going to kill myself. And with you and Cas gone, there was no one to try and bring me back. I’d be gone for good. Just couldn’t do it anymore...” Sam turns to the side, angling his body away. 

And just like that, the air is sucked from Dean’s lungs and his heart stops. He’d never really stopped to think what Sam went through right after he and Cas were blown to Purgatory. Whereas they had a clear goal; keep fighting, find a way out. Find a way home. Find home. 

Sam had... nothing. He looks at his brother then. In that moment, he sees him for the first time in months. He was paler than before he left, the skin stretched just a little tighter around his features. His eyes seemed to sink into his skull, pooled with shadow. He’s a shell of the man left behind. Just starting to piece himself back together and heal at the seams. Dean jumps from his bed and vaults onto Sam’s. Pulling him in roughly, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. He hears himself whispering words into Sam’s hair. 

_It’s okay. I’m here. You’re not alone anymore. Best brother. My pain in the ass little brother. Gotta watch out for you. Gonna watch out for you. Best brother. Love you. Best brother. It’s okay. It’s okay._

And that’s when Sam finally cracks. Just starts sobbing harshly into Dean’s shoulder as his chest heaves. He can hear Sam talking, but can’t distinguish the words through the tears. He gives him a few more moments before pulling back slightly, brushing his thumb over wet and reddened cheeks. Brushes away tears and gives a small, worried smile. 

“Hey, hey now. I’m here, man. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. We’ve done our time, haven’t we? Ha, think about it. Hell, purgatory, even a couple stints in Heaven! We’re done. We’re done, I promise.” But Sam is shaking his head, his hair brushing Dean’s face. 

“I promise I’ll be better, De. I promise. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I’m not good enough. I’ll try harder, I’ll be a better brother, I’ll do better, I won’t mess up again, I can’t mess up again. Don’t let me. Don’t let me lose you again. I’m sorry.” He’s lost in his grief, his words spilling out clumsily as Dean’s heart breaks. 

“Sammy. Sam. Listen to me. I know I said some things. Unfair, hurtful things. I wanted to hurt you when I said them. But listen to me. LISTEN to me. You KNOW I don’t mean them. There’s no one else I’d go to Hell for, sell my soul for, give my everything for. YOU are it for me. Ok? What else am I gonna do with my life besides drive around and listen to music with my pain in the ass little brother? Who else is gonna tell me when I’ve had enough pie, or make sure I eat something green once in awhile. On hunts, who has my back? I KNOW, at the end of the day, that you are the only thing I can depend on. Sometimes I lose sight of that, and I get a little lost at sea. We’ve both fucked up, man. We’ve both said and done things we’re not proud of. But hey, at least Dad ain’t here to see this.” Dean’s been rubbing Sam’s back the entire time, and the tears have mostly stopped. Sam manages to give a halfhearted smile. 

“To see what? How messed up we became?” Sam sighs deeply but tilts his head in confusion when he catches the glint in Dean’s eyes. 

“No. This.” And suddenly his personal space is gone, filled with Dean and leather jackets and so much flannel and whiskey breath and his brother’s lips are crushing against his own and this is wrong. He should be pushing him away. They’re both too emotionally charged to be thinking straight right now. But instead of doing what he should, he does what he wants. He leans into the kiss, moans and licks at Dean’s mouth. Curls his fingers in the cracked leather jacket and inhales the scent he’s been swaddled in for as long as he can remember. Leather and sweat and musky man scent, undertones of too much booze and junk food. A perpetual spicy scent to Dean. He exudes it. Reckless lifestyle, driving by the seat of his pants. 

Sam can’t get enough. He’s overwhelmed, and breaks the kiss. Turns his head and just buries himself in Dean’s neck. 

“What are we doing, Dean? What is this?” He can’t bring himself to look him in the eye. 

“I’m.. I... I thought you...” Dean’s sputtering. Fuck. He misjudged things. Again. He was wrong. Again. Fucked up. Again. But Sam is still right there, limbs like tentacles and they’re still both wrapped up in each other. 

“I can’t do this, Dean. I can’t have THIS kind of relationship with you if you’re just going to keep telling me how much I disappoint you. How Benny is more of a brother. This is a whole new level of fucked up and I’m not going there if you’re still going to treat me like shit under your shoe. You HAVE to trust me, man. Stop acting like I’m a timebomb. Can you do that?” 

That’s when it hits him. He’s really not sure. He... wants this with Sam. Wants it a lot. But there’s still part of him that he can’t trust, indiscretions he can’t move past. Not yet. Sam’s asking a lot and...

“I don’t know.” 

Dean sighs, and his Sammy cries.


End file.
